


Anything For You

by katie_grey



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale in Love (Good Omens), Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Feels, Fluff and Angst, Love, Protective Crowley, so much goddamn angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 17:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_grey/pseuds/katie_grey
Summary: In which Crowley argues with God, because Aziraphale is dying and some things are worth the risk.





	Anything For You

**Author's Note:**

> (Hi! Finally decided to cross-post this lol)
> 
> Prompt: "When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him." - The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller
> 
> This was written for a prompt, but I've been wanting to write a Good Omens story ever since I saw the show. This is definitely an idea that I think I would implement somewhat in that story - if I ever got around to writing a GO story, which isn't likely because I'm still obsessed with Marvel but we'll see.  
It's also unbetaed, which is scary, but hopefully it's not too awful.   
Oh, and by the way, I've never read the book, although I really want to. So a lot of this probably won't match it. There's also a bunch of my own head-canon in here.  
And Aziraphale's nickname is Azi, because... get over it.  
Enjoy the angst! (And the hideous amount of fluff at the end.)

Crowley had lived through Armageddon, but this still felt like the end of the world.

Which was why he was standing in front of the pearly white throne, and why he was willing to do whatever it took to get The Big Guy In the Sky to make his world come together again.

And yeah, it felt like his feet were going to fall off, with the way this floor was burning them (and what the heaven was that about, anyway? Hell's floors didn't burn _angels_. The injustice of it all.)

But he stood there anyway.

"Well?" God asked, in that steady, calming tone of Hers. She should be a narrator for something. Although, if She narrated something, Crowley would probably avoid it like the plague.

He hopped half-heartedly from foot to foot. He coughed. "_Well,"_ he echoed, turning the word into a curse. "For hell's sake, Your Holiness. You know what the problem is!" He raised his voice, accidentally, and almost lowered it again before remembering that he was angry, and She was a dick, and deserved everything She got.

He lowered it anyway, because it wouldn't be a good idea to piss Her off. Not when so much was at stake.

"You see everything. And You know how I can fix it. So why don't You _tell me_ how?"

"You know I can't tell you," She said, resting Her elbow on the pearly white armrest of Her pearly white throne. "You're a demon traitor."

"I'm aware!" Crowley spat, forgetting to lower his voice. "Apologies," he muttered.

Behind him, the heavenly guards shifted uncomfortably. God had given Crowley permission to enter the throne room, but he suspected that they still felt like they should be banishing him. Standard procedure - don't give the demon time to explain himself. Just banish him away.

Rude.

She let Her head fall to rest on Her open hand, and drummed Her white, coffin-shaped nails against Her cheek. The wrinkles around Her eyes deepened when She smiled. "If you didn't expect Me to tell you, why did you come here?"

"_Anything for you. After all, I can't be the only one on my side. That's just asking for death."_

He remembered saying it. Remembered Aziraphale's little smile at his words, before it was replaced by a huff and a frown. "_That's not anything you want to ask for."_

Crowley remembered pressing the back of his hand against Azi's feverish forehead. Swallowing and lifting his hand to his own. He could feel himself burning up - had felt it for a week, just like Azi. But he hadn't mentioned it. It wasn't important.

Crowley fidgeted from foot to foot, although it wasn't entirely because of the pain. He cleared his throat, and pulled on the collar of his shirt, trying to get some air. Satan, this place was suffocating. How had Azi managed to live here for so long?

Perhaps that was why he loved earth so much. Needed a breath of fresh air.

Thinking of Azi made Crowley angry again. "Because you should do something!" he yelled, giving up on the idea of lowering his voice. He started coughing again, and he covered his mouth with his hand, turning his head away.

Above him, God raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for the coughing to cease.

Crowley ripped off his sunglasses once it did, exposing his _hideous_ yellow eyes, and started to pace. It was good for the pain of his feet - which was nothing compared to the throbbing of his head, or the sickness that hung on his bones like a heavy blanket (maybe the room wasn't suffocating? Was it just the illness?) - but it was also good because he enjoyed the expressions on the guards' faces every time he prowled near them.

"Should I?" God asked.

Crowley stalked closer to the throne. "Yes!" he shouted. "He's an angel! He's not supposed to die!"

His voice broke on the last word.

He covered his eyes with one hand, and turned his head away. It was instinctive to cover his eyes. But he also had the horrible feeling that he was about to cry.

"You do know what the problem is, don't you?" God asked.

Crowley didn't respond. He knew She loved the sound of Her own voice, She could explain the problem, because he couldn't bring himself to say it. _Yes, I know what the fucking problem is. The only person in the entire goddamn universe who has ever been a friend to me is dying._

"You aren't a demon anymore, and he isn't an angel," God said. "And a creature like that isn't meant to exist. You are both supposed to die, according to the rules I set in place thousands of years ago." She sounded sympathetic.

Crowley laughed. His laugh cracked in half at the middle, and if he hadn't gritted his teeth to silence it, it might have turned into a sob. "Rules," he muttered, hating Her. "What good are Your rules if You break them every five seconds?"

"I can assure you I do not."

"Can you?"

"Are you attempting to argue with God?" There was amusement evident in Her voice, but also a sick kind of appreciation. Crowley doubted that anyone had tried to argue with Her in a long time. Six thousand years, in fact. He didn't feel sorry for Her.

"I will if that's what it takes!" he snapped, ripping his hand away, exposing the tears that had fallen from his eyes. "I'll do anything! Don't you get that?"

"_It's dangerous, Crowley. You don't have to do this for me. What if She decides to kill you?" Azi had asked, looking up from the book he was reading, adjusting his glasses._

I'm dying anyway, Crowley had thought. Instead, he said, "_Don't you get it by now, angel? I'd die for you if that was what it took."_

_He had never said anything like that before, and Azi looked taken aback._

_In the end, he never got to reply, because he started coughing. _

"I do get it," God said, smiling. That smile was much too genuine for Crowley's taste. How dare She smile at a time like this?

"You don't," he said.

"Crowley," She sounded disappointed. She opened Her other hand, and a pair of glasses appeared in it. She put them on. "I see everything. Of course I get it."

"Then you see him. You see how sick he is. How can you just…?" Crowley broke off. His eyes were watering, so he put his sunglasses back on. "How can you let someone like _that_ die? He may not be an angel anymore, he may not be perfect, according to your standards, but he's… he sweet, and he's kind, and he's wonderful, and if he dies, creation will go down with him. If he dies, it won't be the sickness that kills me. I'll die in the same moment he does." Crowley was crying, but he didn't care.

God was studying him, a strange expression in Her eyes. "You truly are a strange creature," She said, leaning forward, with Her manicured nails pinching the rim of Her glasses. "Perhaps I should have created something like you, all those years ago."

Crowley took a step towards Her, desperately. "But just because You didn't create us this way doesn't mean You have to destroy us! Almighty, something can be new without being wrong!"

She seemed to take a moment to digest his words. Then She said, "You really love him, don't you?"

Crowley practically snorted. "Your Holiness, I would die for him."

And God stood up from Her throne, Her robes sweeping against the floor as She walked towards him.

"Demons are not self-sacrificing," She said.

Crowley took an automatic step back. He shouldn't even be in Her presence. He should definitely not get any closer to Her. But She kept approaching him, and he really didn't want to get any closer to the guards, so he stood still.

"Demons do not fall in love," She said.

Crowley opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. She lifted a finger, and used Her manicured nail to lift his chin. Perhaps if he was still a proper demon, Her touch would have killed him, but now all it did was tingle uncomfortably.

"And they definitely do not go to God, asking for a miracle, to save the life of an _angel_," She said, scoffing as if the idea was ridiculous. "And do you want to know what demons - and angels - both never, ever, _ever_ do?"

Crowley tried to speak, but nothing came out.

God lowered Her hand, stepped back, and dropped Her voice almost to a whisper. "They never remind me of My Son," She said. She took off Her glasses, pulled a handkerchief out of Her blazing white pocket, and handed it to him. Crowley stared at it, then back up at Her. "I will see what I can do," She said, offering him a red-lipped smile. She waved Her hand through the air, and suddenly his feet didn't hurt any more, and he no longer felt like he was burning up.

"Thank you," he said. He must have not quite found his voice yet, because it came out all raspy. Demons weren't supposed to be able to cry.

()()()

"Crowley!" Azi cried, drawing out his name, smiling brightly. He was holding a mug of tea in his hands, and, more importantly, he was standing, with a flush to his cheeks and a light in his eyes. He stepped around a stack of books and carefully offered the tea to Crowley. "I'm so glad you're back. I was so worried, you have no idea. And, you'll never believe it, but I was sitting there burning up one second, and the next I felt perfectly well! Did you actually get God to listen to you?"

Crowley took the tea, and set it on the table, but only so he could lean forward, put a hand on the back of Azi's head, and kiss him on the lips.

"Of course I did," Crowley said, after he pulled away. "I'd do anything for you, remember? God didn't stand a chance." He took off his sunglasses and smiled nervously.

"Oh my," Azi said. He stared at Crowley for a moment, and slowly, that adorable smile returned.

Crowley grinned. "Don't you ever try and die on me again, Aziraphale, or I'll have to have another chat with the Almighty. Wouldn't want to scare Her too much."

Aziraphale laughed. "I'll try my best."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
